Poprocks and Coke
by quixotic-tongues
Summary: It had been thirteen days, sixteen hours, and twelve minutes since he had kissed her. Tomione. College AU.
1. In Which Tom Always Wins

It had been thirteen days, sixteen hours, and twelve minutes since _he_ had kissed her. Not that she counts things like this: _frivolous_ things. He was majoring in politics, the same as her, but for completely – no, utterly, different reasons.

Tom Riddle was all power. She often heard him saying things like, "power and those too weak to see it," or "intelligence without ambition is a bird without wings," and then asked her if she understood the reference. Her chest would puff up as she huffed out a, "of course I understand the Salvador Dali reference!"

But that wasn't the most infuriating part of Tom Riddle, no not at all. The most infuriating part of Tom Riddle was that despite his arrogance he was just charismatic enough to charm the teachers. He had the best grades in the class and Hermione was not used to losing. Because that's what this was – a game. Hermione was quite competitive and liked to win, and so when Tom Riddle decides to kiss her at exactly midday on a Tuesday, and she fights him. She battles him with all the kissing techniques that were lost on her ex-boyfriend, Ron.

And he gasps, and he moans, and he does everything that the boys in her romance novels (a guilty pleasure, really) do. And she falls. She falls, and she falls, and she falls.

"'Mione? You okay?" Harry snapped her out of her thoughts. She really had to stop zoning out and thinking about Riddle. Not that she did this often. Oh God, she definitely did.

"Yeah, Harry, I'm okay. Just tired. My classes are keeping me up." She got up to leave, but then she saw a tall, dark figure standing outside the café door. _Shit._

She walked out anyway, and Harry just sighed and didn't follow. She knew it was hard on him after the breakup between her and Ron – which she usually just referred to as the situation.

"Riddle." She greeted him. She'd been purposefully ignoring him since the kiss and she could tell it was getting under his skin by the way he tensed up every time he saw her walk straight past him.

"Hermione," he nodded, "You've been ignoring me." Double shit.

She tried to walk past him, but he put an arm out to stop her. She sighed, and loudly. He had an amused smirk on his face, which was both comical and fitting with one eyebrow raised and the corners of his beautiful mouth twitching in opposite directions.

"You're staring, and it's not polite." His smirk grew wider. He looked like that awful comic villain. The Joker, that was the one.

"It's difficult not to stare when you look so comically amused." She said, with a smirk of her own. His eyes quickly darkened into something more sinister and she swallowed loudly. He noticed.

"I'd kiss you if you didn't look so proud of yourself," he mused aloud. Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. He absentmindedly twirled a strand of her caramel curls.

"You wouldn't! Not again, I absolutely refuse, and you don't get to just s-stalk me and then – mmph!" She was cut off by his lips pressing desperately against hers. This was nothing like the first time. Before, he was gentle – at least until she pushed back at him. But now everything was rushed, jolting electricity and clashing teeth and biting lips.

Suddenly, she hears the tinkling of the bell attached to the café door, and the moment is broken. "Harry!" She exclaims, "let me walk you to the bus!" She quickly maneuvered out of Tom's embrace – which she hadn't realized she was in and started walking with Harry, who was looking at her with a strange glint to his eye. Tom didn't call her name and for that she was grateful.

Another week of sullen silence on Tom's part and blatant disregard on hers led her to believe this was just a one time (two time, really) thing. She only approached him in class when they had to work on their group project – a project discussing the different aspects and repercussion of the EU Referendum, and to ask the occasional question. He was, after all, the only one in the classroom with better grades than her.

Tom on the other hand regarded Hermione with guarded looks and nasty sneers, as though she didn't belong in Oxford, as though she hadn't worked her absolute arse off to get in, and things were normal. Normal was good. Hermione was just starting to get used to this rhythm when Tom stops her in the hallway.

"I need to get to my next class, so if you'd excuse me," she said in a huff.

"Cor, look," he pointed at the student café, "I fancy buying a treat for my favorite swot." He said it with an uncharacteristic lilt to his voice. It sounded like a faint cockney accent and she didn't allow herself to let the sudden heat between her legs bother her.

"Absolutely not, I have Ancient Politics next, and I am not missing my favorite class to spend time with an arrogant cockney twit like you." She stomped her foot on his instep, and all dramatics aside left him gaping at her from afar.

Malfoy approached him. He can't believe that ignorant bint had just rejected him and then proceeded to bloody wallop his foot. Malfoy must've seen the look of fury on his face, because he sounded apologetic as he informed him that the plan was already in motion.

Abraxas Malfoy was a different breed of cruel – a politician at heart, and an absolute prat at best, but certainly Tom's best friend. It also helped that Malfoy was stinking bloody rich. Malfoy was talking about the plan to infiltrate parliament directly after his graduation in a year, of course. Tom wanted power, and he would do anything to guarantee it.

That bitch in his Modern Politics class made him feel powerful, Hermione Granger – her name practically rolls off his tongue. He has tried everything to make her his. From kissing her gently (Tom doesn't do gentle) to inviting her to dinner on evening to even offering to buy her a snack in the student café. He just didn't understand why she abhorred him so. He was outwardly charming, charismatic, and handsome. He also certainly did not have a problem with his ego, unlike that awful ex-boyfriend of hers… so yes, he's a little bit overzealous, but everyone has their flaws. The fact that she called him out on being a common Londoner however had been the last straw.

It was a week later when she finally gave in to his advances. She was sitting in Advanced Grecian Politics when Riddle walked into the classroom, his usual pompous air suffocating her with every step he drew closer. He sat next to her. She glared at him for a full minute before frowning with resignation of the situation. He simply gave her a secret smile, and she visibly relaxed. Well, at least he's not here to bother me. She had been wrong.

He had slipped his hand under the table and rested it on her knee, lightly tapping his fingers. She gasped at the contact. He simply gave her a contemptuous smirk, and moved his hand higher. She had suddenly regretted wearing her favorite green plaid skirt. He was now at the waistband of her knickers and she could not bring herself to stop him. Truthfully, she had been his for weeks now and was only just realizing it.

"Tell me to stop," He whispered through the curtain of her hair. The professor continued to drone on. She sat perfectly still and waited for him to continue. "Or tell me to go." He smirked.

He knew that she wouldn't admit she wanted him; she was far too stubborn. "It's a simple question Granger."

"Hermione." She said softly, "Call me Hermione."

"Answer the fucking question, Hermione." His common accent was leaking through again, and it only made her want for him grow. She nodded, hoping it would be enough. It was.

He mercilessly rubbed at her through her knickers and she was struggling to keep her breathing normal. He could tell. He moved upward towards her clit. She actually whimpered. Luckily nobody noticed except him, but it was mortifying nonetheless. He simply smiled more predatorily. She was forcing herself not to buck against him.

She was on the edge of her orgasm when he pulled away. She looked up at him wide-eyed and flushed. "You wouldn't," she said.

"Oh, I would, Dove." His accent was thick, and made her thoughts wander to what he would sound like first thing in the morning. He grabbed her hand, and put it on his pants.

"Feel how aroused I am, Hermione. You are to leave this classroom within the next minute. Excuse yourself for a bathroom break. I will be out shortly." She swallowed and did as he said.

She found an empty classroom and placed her bag down, smoothed her skirt, and paced. He had managed to escape the classroom, and sneak up on her.

She nearly shrieked when she felt a hand cover her mouth, another hand coming up to cup her breast. She relaxed against him, and he twirled her, the glint in his eye instantly making her wet.

Six condoms and seven positions later they were utterly spent. His hair was almost as wild as hers now, black and unforgiving and severe, and he had the nerve to ask, "Do I get that dinner date now?"

She was out of breath, but she managed a, "Yes."

\- END -

 **I plan on continuing this and making it a short (maybe six chapter?) fanfiction. If you'd like to leave a review it's greatly appreciated, and I will see you with an update soon.**


	2. In Which Dinner Happens

It had been a week since the most mind-blowingly good sex of his life. A whole week. She still wouldn't go to dinner with him, the bloody _witch._ It was a simple fact, an anomaly without a doubt, but a simple fact. So, here Tom was: standing outside her flat with a bunch of gardenias (apparently, she loved the smell) and his best suit on.

 _He paints a very pretty picture,_ Hermione thought as she picked at her fingernail and peeked through the blinds. She was wearing a light pink, fluffy bathrobe and matching slippers when he had obviously worked up the courage to ring the doorbell. She looked down. _Bugger._

 _Ding! Ding!_

She sprinted to her room and opened up her closet, throwing on the first thing she picked up. She had forgotten a bra! _Oh well, he's seen me in less._

 _Ding! Ding!_

Tom was growing impatient with the girl. He had been standing there for the past five minutes and debating whether or not to leave. He growled under his breath, and went to push the doorbell again when Hermione opened the door.

"Tom!" She greeted, and Tom looked her up and down with one raised eyebrow. She was wearing a floral skirt and a mustard-colored jumper. She seemed to realize what he was looking at and blushed a bright crimson color. Her hair though, was the truly wild thing. It had a mind of its own, and his head brought forth images of the Greek mythological figure Medusa.

He too was turned to stone in that moment. Even at her barefaced, most appallingly gauche, and _wild_ for lack of a better word she was breathtaking.

"Tom?" She frowned for a moment, and he laughed – maniacally, and unashamed. She was concerned at the way she looked, and he could tell from the insecure glint to her eye but in reality she was the most exquisite creature he had ever laid eyes on in that moment.

"Forgive me," he said softly, catching his breath, "but you have never looked more beautiful."

She slapped him. The stinging crack of her fingers against his cheekbone shocking him into action. She drew back to slap him again, presumably, and he caught her wrist. She blanched when she realized he hadn't been joking.

"Oh my God… I'm so sorry; Really, I don't know what I was thinking. That was horri-." He cut her off with a searing kiss. It was short and sweet and served its purpose. She tasted like blackberries and lemonade. She tried to kiss him again, but he gently pushed her away.

"We have a dinner reservation for 8pm, it's almost 7:30." He nodded into the flat, "May I come in while you get ready?"

"Of – Of course." She sputtered, thoroughly embarrassed by Tom Riddle, once again.

He threw himself haphazardly across her tartan couch, and she laughed under her breath. _Make yourself at home,_ _ **please.**_ He smirked at her from across the room as he stared at something on her kitchen counter.

"What are you-? _Oh."_ He was staring at a box of condoms; a box of condoms she had promised herself she hadn't bought because of him. She quickly brushed past him and put them in the kitchen drawer.

"Saving those for later?" He asked, with an amused, boyish grin on his face. She scuttled into her bedroom, after snatching the flowers from him and placing them in a vase of water, at what he thought was record timing. He threw his head back and laughed sacrificially for the second time that evening.

She had finally escaped the knowing smirks of Tom Riddle, and honestly what a name. It was the kind of name you couldn't separate. Just calling him Tom feels too casual, but calling him Riddle sounds too menacing and really, _really,_ what an appropriate surname for such an enigma.

She had picked out a black number – a short, but tasteful, dress which dipped low in the front and hugged what little curvature she had. She slipped on a pair of black kitten heels to match, and ran some olive oil through her curls to tame them a bit. She applied just a bit of mascara and a dusty rose lipstick and she was ready to leave. Hermione Granger, after all, was not prone to vanity.

The walk to the restaurant was sullen, an engulfed in a thick blanket of peaceful silence, until Riddle broke it.

"Well Dove, I don't know about you, but I fancy getting absolutely sloshed and hoping none of my competition makes a campaign about it in the morning."

She laughed quietly, adding a, "Perhaps I'll campaign against you in the morning!"

His glare rapidly stifled her mocking looks, and she privately hoped he would get a bit tipsy, if only to loosen up his personality a bit.

When they got inside a pretty waitress seated them, and Hermione glanced around the room. There was absolutely nobody in the restaurant, and that was especially shocking because of the popularity of _Hogwarts: A Dining Experience._

"What did you do? You didn't actually rent out the entire restaurant!" Hermione seethed.

"No, just this portion of it, now shut up. Our food and wine is here. I took the liberty to order ahead of time, and I hope you enjoy it."

She had to admit: the food was spectacular. Shockingly, so was the wine. Hermione had never quite developed a taste for wine, as it was too sharp on her tongue, but this one was smooth and fruity and perfect. It was also red. Red like blood, and it stained her lips. Tom looked like he wanted to ravish her.

They left the restaurant significantly tipsier than either had planned and smiling.

"Thank you, Tom, that was truly wonderful." Hermione said, lightly brushing her hand on his cheek.

"My pleasure, Mon Amie, May I escort you home, S'il vous plait?" Tom questioned, trying to show off his French. He was a bit of a polyglot really, and he knew 17 languages well enough to carry conversations. He was only 23.

Hermione knew 12 languages, at the age of 19. She was pleasantly surprised that he took the time to learn French, and she tried to carry the rest of their conversation in the shared language.

When they finally arrived at Hermione's flat she invited him inside, "Would you like a drink?"

"No, but would you mind if I crashed on your couch? I don't think I'm fit to drive."

"I have a spare bedroom, or there's always my room." She gave him her best innocent look.

He shook his head no, stating, "You're drunk. 'M a gentleman." He was slurring his words quite badly at this point and she laughed as she started to hear the cockney lilt again.

"I'll show you to the spare bedroom then." Hermione said with a small smile. This was the beginning of something, and she could feel it.

 **Well, well, well. Here it is as promised. Tom is quite a sweetie, really. In the following chapters we might see a darker side of him though, so stick around! :) As always, comments are appreciated.**


	3. Update

Hello wonderful users! When I had first begun to write this fanfiction I had never dreamed that anyone might actually want to read it, after all with such wonderful fanfiction writers in the Harry Potter community I had hardly expected my rough draft chapters to garner any sort of following. However, I have noticed that a few people were kind enough to both read and leave lovely reviews on this project and for that I'm immensely grateful. That being said, I hope nobody is too upset to learn that I will be postponing updates until I can properly edit and republish a proper story out of these rough drafts.

I am aiming to have these chapters edited within the month, and begin slow updates again within the next few months. Please be patient, and feel free to leave pointers! Thank you!


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